


whisper of the heart

by Tarredion



Series: birthday gifts [7]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Piano
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25189213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarredion/pseuds/Tarredion
Summary: Phil has a headache. Dan plays the piano and comforts him.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Series: birthday gifts [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596304
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	whisper of the heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> happy (late) birthday eve <3
> 
> title is a reference to the Ghibli song Dan plays [Whisper Of The Heart - Theme](https://youtu.be/ohKbDiT1dCQ?t=3757)

The sun stirs Phil awake, washing a vermilion glow across the covers he’s wrapped in. 

Heavy fabric weighs him down, yet he’s shivering. Begrudgingly turning towards the open blinds, he realizes why as light stings his eyes; a headache lingers behind them.

He clutches his gently throbbing head, diving back beneath the blanket he must’ve hogged during the night, the probable reason Dan’s feet aren’t kicking his chins right now.

He’s not going to cry because his boyfriend’s not next to him. He’s just  _ not. _

Telling himself he can handle it all on his own, Phil burrows his face in a pillow. It doesn’t matter if it’s his; all of them hold a trace of that warm, vaguely familiar scent that he finds his comfort in. 

He lays there, heavy heart, drifting in and out of fever dreams.

That’s until the soft sound of a piano pulls him back into reality, bleary-eyed.

The clinking is distant yet so easily distinguishable. Phil tunes his ears to the sound like he’s learnt to do over the years, letting it ease his mind. He can hear fingers gently caress the keys, as if playing a new piece.

It’s… nice. A pickle for his fancy, perhaps, or whatever the idiom is.

The sunbeams are now faint enough for Phil to actually take in his surroundings, so he blinks. He’ll still take some ibuprofen later, but at least his sweltering body is mostly functioning.

He cracks his joints and crawls out of his cocoon, pulling one of Dan’s hoodies over his head.

Stepping out into the corridor, his boxerless legs turn to jelly. The long walk from their bedroom makes his head spin, both daunting and nauseating. Still, he somehow manages to stumble up the stairs and into the lounge, where he’s greeted by a scene that makes him happy he dragged himself out of bed.

Dan’s sat at the piano with his back turned, and soft, messy curls billowing off his head in waves. He’s wearing sweatpants and a simple grey t-shirt that is not his own. These days, it rarely is.

He’s tinkering with the keys, the tune of a mildly familiar Ghibli song filling the air, and it makes the whole room sway, including both his feet.

Phil wraps his arms around Dan, chest pressed to his back, laughing along as he tries to wriggle out of his grasp. He loves that laugh. Most of all, he loves Dan and all his surprises, musical or not. This one’s good though. Romantic.

“It was nice to wake up to this,” Phil mumbles fondly, scalp scratchy against his puckered lips. Dan smells of sweat and tiredness, he can tell. “To the piano, I mean. And to you. Even if you’re stinky stinky.”

Dan hums along, drawing a sarcastic response, then returns the kiss, mouth on his. “Didn’t expect you out of bed this early,” he confesses, gesturing at the piano and then him. “How’re you feeling?”

“‘m in pain, lil bit,” he says and taps next to Dan’s furrowed brow to avoid shaking his head. “Headache.”

Dan's face lights up with recollection, then falters. “Do you want some painkillers? I’ll take you downstairs, just- ghn- let me get up.”

The floor lurches beneath Phil from the first step, and he’s clinging to Dan in an instant. Sending him a queasy smile, he lets himself be led and held.

They don’t speak, which feels eerie. But he deals with it, recognizing the benefit.

Dan turns off the lights, handing him a glass to help swallow the ibuprofen down. Stumbling around seems to have made him more sickly than ever, so he’s quick to relax.

The glasses are taken away once he’s done, a soft pillow placed behind his head. He grumbles a thanks and ducks away, shaky due to his ailment.

Though the dip in the mattress, which he has turned his back to, is significantly more bothering.

Phil knows he’ll hate the thick silence when the headache simmers down, and so will Dan, but he’ll hate Dan’s reluctance even more. He doesn’t ever want to act in a way that makes Dan hesitate or doubt himself, especially because the way Phil acts while sick is never his fault. 

His stomach lurches. No matter if Dan leaves or stays, his departure shouldn’t be tinged by uncomfortable glances and unsaid i-love-yous. And Phil won’t let their morning end this sourly.

There’s a hitched breath from Dan when he shuffles over, but it soon softens into a cracked, audible smile. Phil’s arms wrap around him. 

He inquires in a murmur, and when Phil tells him he wants a cuddle, there’s nothing to argue.

Even in the dark, Phil sees the crinkle of Dan’s affectionate eyes, and he loves that he can always see that. “I want rub rubs,” he whines, gazing into his deep, brooding irises. Dan complies.

His big, gorgeous hands are careful as they massage his temples. They calm Phil, and would always do so, even if nothing else could.  _ Bestest boyfriend, _ he thinks, and leans into the touch with a hum, soothed and hushed. 

Phil’s glad he spoke up. They’re much happier like this. In each other’s arms. And it’s all theirs (for now… kids are on the list, but he won’t think of that or he’ll  _ actually _ cry). 

“Should promise me that you won’t leave when I fall asleep… at least play for me if you do.”

Fingertips brush away his drooping quiff and the beads of sweat forming behind it.

“‘Course, I’ll play,” Dan says, amused. His laughter is sweet, against Phil’s mouth equally so. “Even if you’re dumb dumb.” 

There’s a word he doesn’t say, on the tip of his tongue. And yet Phil kisses back, agreeing just as quietly. Because it’s true, even on their bad days, even when he’s in pain.

Always dumb. Always Dan’s.

**Author's Note:**

> [moodboard / reblog here](https://tarredion.tumblr.com/post/623285270016606208/whisper-of-the-heart-g-976-phil-has-a-headache)


End file.
